


Comfort

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Series: Jabberwocky - the adult and slash stories [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Paula</p><p>Blake and Soolin share their grief over Dayna's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> Previously Published in Jabberwocky, The Adult and Slash Stories. Southern Comfort 5.5

"Dayna's dead."

      Soolin stared up at Blake in startled disbelief, eyes widening as she saw the misery in his face, the way his shoulders slumped and the weight of the burden of telling her what had happened to her friend. Whatever had happened, she knew that Blake blamed himself for it, and that angered her. It was safe to be angry; then she wouldn't have to admit that his words had hurt her.

      When her parents were killed she had learned that lowering her guard, caring for anyone, was stupid, a mistake that backfired and led to more pain, and she had spent her life adhering to that principle, holding herself aloof and cool, uncommitted to any cause, to any person, knowing only the burden of her revenge. Then the revenge was complete, and unprepared for the emptiness that replaced her purpose, she had been at a loss, unable to formulate future plans, so that when Dorian offered her a place to live in return for "companionship" she had not considered the option impossible. What did it matter anyway? She did not love Dorian and had not come to love him, for to do so would be to violate her own principles of non-involvement.

      Then she had learned what Dorian intended for her and for these people she had joined because there was nowhere else to go. Dorian had betrayed her, and she spent her first days on _Jabberwocky_  expecting further betrayal, holding herself aloof from them all. Avon practised non-involvement too, and she recognised in him something of a kindred spirit, though it did not draw her to him. Gradually she watched him come to terms with some of the others, and when they did not turn on him, she was startled into curiosity.

      It was Blake who had come closer than anyone to reaching her, and she had decided he made her too vulnerable and her only recourse was to go. When Tarrant was shot, she had told Blake she meant to leave and he'd talked her out of it, convincing her that he actually meant it when he expressed concern for her. It was like nothing she had experienced before, for he made no attempt to take advantage of her weakness where he was concerned - he didn't invade her cabin in the night and have his way with her, though she was fairly certain she would not have denied him that, had he wanted it. She had given herself to men before; they'd meant nothing and had served her purposes. Sometimes she had wondered what it would be like to give herself to a man who actually valued her, not as a bedmate but simply as a human being.

      There was Hugh, of course, as different from her as anyone could be, open and trusting, ready to include her easily among the people he trusted, the people he liked. Hugh even liked Avon. She'd come to trust Hugh and, if forced to conceptualise the relationship, she would have called him her best friend. She would have been Hugh's lover, but Hugh did not ask that of her, though she suspected he found her desirable. Knowing Hugh, he was probably giving her time to come to terms with herself and him. He was a nice person, Hugh, and she sometimes thought she would like to grow closer to him.

      But it was Blake who touched a place inside her she had never known was there. He was not perfect - no one was - and his faults irritated her as they did Avon, his obsession with destroying the Federation for one. She doubted if it could be done, at least not as easily as Blake hoped it could. She watched Jenna sometimes and knew that Jenna loved Blake. They were sleeping together too; Soolin had been around enough to know the signs, but Blake was an open, giving man, whose caring spread to everyone around him, and Jenna was a little possessive of him. She resented Avon, though she generally kept such feelings under wraps. She resented Tarrant for his possession of  _Jabberwocky_ too, and she must sense that Soolin's feelings for Blake were stronger than simply follower to leader, so she watched Soolin interact with Blake, her eyes narrowed and considering. Soolin doubted she and Jenna would ever be friends.

      Soolin couldn't help watching Blake. He had a great heart, and he cared for all of them. He spent time with Soolin, talking to her about the need to take risks, not just risks with her gun but risks with people. When she formed a cautious friendship with Dayna, who was closest of the women to her age, she sensed Blake's almost paternal approval. Cally, practical and competent, was someone else she could respect, but the telepathy put her off a little: she was half-afraid Cally would read her thoughts. Cally never did, of course, and before Soolin had left the ship, after learning she had been programmed by the Federation, she had begun to grow closer to Cally.

      She liked Vila, though it had taken her some time to see past his determined wall of cowardice to the man beneath. Vila made her laugh, and that was a valuable gift, for laughter had never come easy to Soolin. She had learned to hold the world at bay with sardonic humour, never quite bitter enough to turn away potential allies, but never completely open either, and she was surprised to find that Vila liked her humour better than anyone else on board, though Avon could raise an appreciative eyebrow at something she said when Tarrant didn't even get the joke. So she laughed with Vila, worked at provoking a response from Avon and joined Dayna in a delightful game of Tarrant-baiting; pure fun since she had no real interest in Tarrant.

      But now Dayna was dead and Soolin froze, feeling something congeal inside her. Blake put out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, a gesture of comfort that she welcomed and resented at the same time. If she hadn't lowered her guard, she wouldn't need the comfort.

      "What happened?" she asked coolly, as if it didn't matter. Blake looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes considering and vulnerable.

      Why must he always blame himself for some things, she wondered. He wasn't the only one who made mistakes. "I think you'd better tell me about it." She looked around her small flat on Ryalon Base and pointed him towards a chair.

      He took it gratefully. "The mission went wrong," he explained. "I shouldn't have insisted we go after IMIPAK. We learned my clone had destroyed IMIPAK long ago. The whole thing was pointless." He shivered suddenly. "Jabberwocky secretly contacted his son who proved to have a ship full of pirate crewmates. One of them shot Dayna by mistake."

      By mistake? That was a stupid way to go. Dayna would have preferred to go out fighting, hand to hand, using a primitive weapon, relishing the danger. Dying in an accident, by mistake, was not right, and Soolin averted her eyes. "I don't see why it's your fault," she pointed out, seating herself across from him and refusing to look him in the face.

      "We were there because I insisted upon it, Soolin," he replied. "Avon almost died trying to heal her. If Hugh hadn't been there to break the link, he could have died too."

      "But he didn't," Soolin pointed out. "Don't blame yourself for things that haven't even happened, Blake."

      He shivered. "I'm sorry. I had no right to come here and tell you my problems. I know you and Dayna were friends."

      It was still hard to admit such things aloud, though she had admitted it inside. Yes, Dayna had been her friend, and now her friend was dead. She shouldn't be surprised; it was the natural order of things. Maybe she brought a curse to those people she cared about, surviving while they died. She couldn't understand why Avon put such value on being a survivor. All it meant was that you kept finding yourself alone, and there was no joy in solitude.

      She detected a certain unsteadiness in Blake's pose and stared at him consideringly. "You don't look well, Blake. What else happened? Were you hurt?"

      He shook his head abruptly, then once again as if to deny his denial. "Servalan was there," he said. "She mistook me for the clone and drugged me for information. I'm all right, though. Hugh says the stuff's gone from my system."

      "Somehow I don't quite believe you. It was never so easy. I don't see why you have to prove you're invulnerable, Blake. No one is."

      "I'm all right now," he insisted. "But it was touch and go for a while. Avon had to help me work through it, and he didn't want to do it." He smiled suddenly, a bright, blazing look that startled her into smiling back, though she saw no cause for smiles. "Poor Avon," he said fondly. "He hates to admit he feels anything for anyone, but when I needed it he was there for me."

      Well, that was a surprise. Or was it? She had never entirely understood Avon's reaction to Blake - not that she didn't understand he might feel something for Blake, because anyone would. It was just that, knowing how Avon felt about keeping his distance, she was surprised at how obvious he was about liking Blake and needing him around.

      She wondered if she was that obvious herself. Probably. Hugh seemed to know it, though he never said so.

      "But you're all right?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed. "No, you're not. You're blaming yourself for Dayna, and that's stupid. You couldn't have known Jabberwocky had contacted his son and that there would be pirates down there. Dayna knew the risks she was taking. She liked taking risks, Blake. She..." Soolin's voice trailed off as it suddenly hit her. Dayna was dead! Justifying it wasn't going to help, and nothing she or Blake could say would change it. Soolin hadn't even been there to help. Maybe she could have done nothing, but she'd never know that now. She'd stayed here licking her wounds, avoiding the others because she'd been made to betray them against her will, half afraid they'd all turn on her as Avon had and blame her. Most people were quick to blame, quick to accuse someone else.

      She had finally found a place where she wanted to stay, and it had not worked. She should have known it wouldn't work, but Blake had been so sure and she had believed him. Even after she left the ship, she'd half expected Blake to invite her to come back. He had visited her, but he'd said nothing, and then she'd learned that  _Jabberwocky_ had gone on a mission without her. Feeling abandoned, she had tried to distance herself from the others but without success. The sight of Blake standing in her doorway, his eyes full of pain, had shattered her barriers, which had made his announcement hit her all the harder. With horror, she realised that she was about to cry. She hadn't cried in years; not since her family died and there had been no one to care if she wept, not since she'd learned that any sign of weakness could lead to destruction.

      Abruptly, she rose and turned her back on Blake. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked in a cool, polite voice, as if offering tea to a stranger.

      He jumped up behind her and caught her shoulders, turning her to face him. "Don't," he said urgently. "Don't close yourself away from it. That only makes it worse."

      "It's the only thing I can do, Blake," she insisted, trying to pull herself free of his touch. She knew she was vulnerable now and she hated it, but she couldn't change it, and it was worse because Blake was here to witness it. He would not let her bottle it in. Instead, he drew her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her until she felt swallowed up in his warmth, and something snapped inside her. She hid her face against the rough fabric of his shirt and shed tears for Dayna. Not many, for it was not her way, but a few, and, to her astonishment, it actually felt good, as if she had opened a long-blocked channel and discovered a side of her she had thought gone for good.

      Blake was a big warm teddy bear of a man, offering her exactly what she needed at the moment, a bulwark. She let a cynical thought intrude, that this came naturally to him, a form of manipulation, and that now he had something he could use against her, but she knew it wasn't true. Blake might manipulate people, but not in this way.

      Finally, she pulled back a little; not enough to leave the warmth he offered so easily, but enough to see his face, and she was shocked to realise that his eyes were bright with tears of his own. For Dayna? For her? Or for himself and his determined acceptance of guilt? She didn't know, but if he could give comfort, then she could give it in return, and she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. Though the role of comforter was new to her, it did not feel unnatural, and they stood there together for a long time, sharing something that was too difficult to define, but which she thought might be friendship.

      When it began to change into something else, she was unaware of it at first. Holding a male body in her arms was familiar, though this was different from the times when she had used her body as a tool to gain information, to get past someone's defences, to learn of her enemies. It had always been practical, and if there had been some physical gratification in it, it was only because she was pragmatic enough to find pleasure in her work.

      But this was different. She had never wanted to give herself before. The other times had been necessary and she had braced herself and got on with the job. Now, she lifted her face and saw Blake looking down at her with a startled realisation in his eyes, and she wondered if he would back away before he admitted to a need similar to her own. She knew she could make him stay, demanding it of him in such a way that he would fear to reject her in case it turned her cold and hard again and isolated her from him.

      But she would not accept him because he was being merciful to her, fearing to drive her away if he backed off. She wanted him now because they were two people who had shared sorrow and needed to share joy, because she had nothing to give to him but herself; not because she had to, not for gain, but because she wanted to be with him of her own choice, freely. She had offered her body to men before, but she had never offered herself along with it, and it felt very strange. It made her sudden desire seem beautiful instead of a simple bodily function. And so, when she caught his eyes and smiled at him, he was startled into smiling back.

      He kissed her, gently and lightly, as if to say that he understood, and when her lips parted under his, she felt strangely moved as if she would cry again, but not because she was sad. Did people ever cry because they were happy? It seemed strange yet right.

      The kiss intensified as he recognised her acceptance and they stood locked together, clinging with mouths and bodies. She felt the familiar warmth race through her, but it was different this time, and when he drew back and looked down into her face, she reached up and stroked his cheek with one hand before she led him into the bedroom.

      Blake undressed her slowly, his hands warm as they freed her from the confinement of her clothing, his fingers startling her into reaction when they traced across a nipple. She made a little squeaking sound of pleasure and caught his wrist, pressing his hand to her breast for a moment before she let him go to work on the fastenings of his shirt.

      She found pleasure in exploring the smooth skin of his chest before she worked the fabric back off his shoulders. The scent of him was exciting to her, and soon she had opened his trousers and worked them down over his hips. He was partially aroused already and when she touched his shaft, he caught his breath and pressed forward into her encircling fingers. For a moment, she caressed him, then he detached her hand and finished undressing her.

      Neither of them spoke. It seemed almost like a ballet, moving together as if the movements were choreographed, both of them intent on the atmosphere of the moment: first a rehearsal as they learned each other's bodies as a dancer learns his routine. Blake's lips brushed a nipple, then his mouth opened and his tongue traced its hardness before he sucked lightly. She wove her fingers through his hair and breathed his name.

      She guided his hand down across her belly and spread her legs for him, eager to feel his touch, and he brushed his fingers lightly against the warmth of her thighs before he found the right place and began to tease and probe.

      "Blake!" she said sharply, startled to realise how much she had been wanting him to touch her.

      Her breathing quickened and she began to move restlessly under his exploring fingers, gasping as he thrust one of them into her and made little in and out movements. Determined to arouse him as he was arousing her, she reached for him and began to draw her fingertips up and down his penis, pleased to hear his breathing quicken and to feel him swell and harden beneath her touch.

      "Now, Soolin," he begged suddenly, moving over her. "Now."

      "Yes, now," she agreed, and drew him to her, guiding him in. He plunged deep in sudden urgency and she welcomed him, shifting her body expertly to take him in. She knew how to please a man and had done it before, and she had been with men whose skills probably far exceeded Blake's, but she had not really wanted them, not like this, and when he began to push against her, driving his body into hers, she forgot about all her little tricks and let instinct take over.

      He kissed her hungrily as he thrust, and she responded, wrapping her legs around him to hold him close. They clung together with a need beyond the moment's gratification, and though there was an urgency to it, there was also something warm and gentle that slowed the pace, prolonging their pleasure and startling her with the realisation that the sharing was more important than the actual climax. Being together now, needing each other now was what really mattered. She thought she did cry a little, and perhaps she did, for he slowed his movements and brushed a finger across her eyelashes, kissing her closed eyes.

      Then need overwhelmed them and they lost themselves in a dance as old as humanity. She climaxed first, stunned and breathless with the sweetness of it, and a moment later he followed her, his body going rigid against her as he came.

      When he finally withdrew from her, he gathered her into his arms and held her against him while their breathing stilled. Neither of them spoke immediately, as if there were no real words to say, and to say anything would shatter the moment. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and smiled at her, and she smiled back contentedly.

      After a time, he sat up and pulled her up with him, leaning against the headboard of the bed. "All right?" he asked.

      "I think so. Are you?"

      He nodded. "I think I-"

      She reached up and touched a finger to his lips. "No, Blake. No explanations. No justifications. I don't have any claim on you and I don't expect one."

      "But-"

      "We needed each other just now. I know this will sound like a cliche but I don't mean it that way. I didn't know it was ever like that. It's never been that way for me before. I never - cared for anyone before." She smiled a little at the startled look in his eyes. He was very careful not to let it look like pity. "I know you and Jenna have a relationship and I won't interfere with that. I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship myself. I don't think I am yet. But you were here for me when I needed you, and I'll always be there for you. That's a promise."

      "I hope that means you'll come back to the ship," he said, taking her seriously and not trying to argue her meaning with her. She was glad of that.

      "You don't think it will be a problem?" she asked, startled to know how much she wanted to go back. Was that wise? Was it worth the risk? Was it worth the knowledge that what she had just shared with Blake would never be repeated?

      Yes. She had expected no commitment and she was not ready to make one. But she had learned now how a commitment might feel and she knew that one day she would want that from someone. Blake maybe, if that were possible? Hugh? Someone else?

      Going back to the ship was a commitment, too; one she knew she could make now. She cared about the others, though it was a frightening thing to admit. Dayna was gone and that would hurt; she would turn and expect to see her and never see her and know that her friend was dead. But maybe the having of the friend was enough to see her through the losing. Blake had come to her and Blake was her friend, too. She wouldn't expect too much. She was good at that, and for once it might be useful. She would not expect too much of Blake or any of the others.

      But she would have to expect more of herself. She smiled a little. Yes, it was possible. It was a risk, but she was good at that too.

      "We all want you back," Blake avowed, shaking her shoulders slightly. "Even Avon won't argue against it." He didn't ask if she meant what had just happened between them and she was glad. That might be her own particular problem, but she could live with that.

      "Then I just might take you up on it," she conceded carefully. "Right away?"

      He smiled at her. "The sooner the better. It's time for you to come home."


End file.
